"...you're planning to die, right? That's the whole point of your emotional journey is so you can return home and somehow complete this prophecy by letting your beloved kill you?"
Lena hummed from where she was laying down in the grass, her head resting on Wednesday's thigh where the girl was sitting up against a headstone, the setting sun casting its last rays of light across the manor's grounds. "Well, yes... mostly I don't- I don't want to have to see the person I've come to treasure and hold so deeply in the core of my being so twisted with insanity." Closing her eyes against the rising feeling of longing in her chest, she shook her head slightly. "I keep having this dream where I return, walking through those halls and he's there- sane and whole and perfect- except... when he turns to look at me, there's nothing. No recognition, no warm smile in greeting, not even a pleased smirk and..."
The girl's hand carded through her hair gently. "And you wake up with tears in your eyes, feeling as if someone ripped out your heart." A soft huff. "Yeah. I know."
Reaching up, she tangled her fingers in Wednesday's, holding on tightly. "Had I met you first- had the world allowed us to find each other before we decided to give our hearts away to tragedy, I would have loved you to the end of the Earth and back."
"That's a little bit gay, Lena." The girl's voice was mirthful.
Laughing softly and tilting her head back so she could look up at the girl, she smiled as cheekily as she could with her heart so heavy. "I would have been a little bit gay for you, Wednesday."
"That's the dumbest and yet somehow sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me." The girl grinned at her before it turned a bit melancholy. "But I think I have to ask you not to speak of that distant universe, as you're firmly devoted to another and I don't want... I'm lost and adrift, Lena. Don't make me latch onto you in hopes of safety and then make me have to lose you too. That's not fair to either of us."
"...alright." Lena nodded slightly, looking away. "I-... I understand that."
She wished that she could have said that she wouldn't leave- that she could give up this hopeless road she was on and stay with good people that would love her no matter what...
But she couldn't, so she didn't.
Lena stood towards the back of the main hall leaning against the wall next to Lurch who was playing Moonlight Sonata, watching Wednesday and Pugsley greet two girls their age with grins and half-snorted laughs. Like their mother and aunt, one of the girls had red hair and the other brunette, the brunette woman that was their mom standing hand in hand with a man that reminded her a bit of Jack with the way he held himself, the redheaded aunt of the two girls leaning on his other side with an unlit cigarette hanging from her lips.
Grandmama had taken up whispering with two older women, who also had the brown and red hair that Wednesday had told her was common for the Owen's family, the two women and one man talking to Morticia and Gomez.
A happy family.
Lurch grunted, the song having finished, looking at her for another recommendation.
"Something sad."
Doing something with his eyebrows as if to say 'you always ask for that, can't you ever like happy things?', the man started to play Moonlight Sonata yet again.
"Something about this scene bothers you?"
They're happy.
Riddle's huff was soft. "It is a prominent holiday, darling, like muggle Christmas where family comes together to celebrate. Of course they would be happy. My question is not that, it is this: why aren't you?"
I could leave this house and no one would notice. I feel... unseen. Forgotten. Lost.
Lena put a hand up to her face, closed her eyes.
I want someone to see me. It has been what I have wanted for so long and for so long I have lived with this hole in my chest- I want someone to look me in the eyes and not only understand but accept me.
"Come sit with me, love."
It would be rude to leave.
"And it would be ruder to think that they would make you say when in such a state of turmoil- come lay in my arms and let me tell you a story."
...I'm always up for a good story.
Riddle chuckled softly. "Get moving, then, sweetheart. I'm terribly lonely."
Her huff was just a breath, pushing herself off the wall and looking at Lurch before nodding her head to the stairs. When the man just nodded slowly, she retreated to the room she shared with Wednesday, Kitty following her. Changing into sleep clothes and finding the lion was already laying across her bed, she smiled faintly and then shifted into her animagus form.
Arching her back and then leaning forward to stretch her legs, tail flicking behind her, she focused for a moment, springing up onto the bed so she could pad across the bed and curl up under the lion's chin.
Growling softly when the lion tried to lick her face, she put a paw on the big wet nose so it stopped moving before closing her eyes.
Riddle was laying in a hammock, her mindscape reflecting Ares' Temple, and he laughed softly as she climbed into the same hammock ungracefully, flopping on top of him like a dead fish. His hand moving to card through her hair. "You're in a mood today."
"Bite me."
"...where?"
Jabbing his side, she smiled into his shoulder when he made a soft hissing sound. "You promised me a story."
The hand in her hair moved to poke her cheek lightly. "And here I thought that you enjoyed my presence as well as my ability to get you out of situations you don't want to be in. But, no, you just want your story."
"You know that I appreciate your existence with all of my soul." She wiggled to the side so she was tucked into his side comfortably. "But I am curious at heart and you know that I like your stories, as you seldom tell them."
"I realized that I never told you my story- the full thing."
She looked up at him, raising her eyebrows. "Oh?"
Riddle nodded, lips holding a fond smile as he gently carded his hands through her hair. "I was born in 1926, Tom Marvolo Riddle, as my mother was Merope Gaunt and my father was-"
There was a light touch that jolted her from her mindscape before the boy could finish his sentence and when she looked up, she found Morticia looking at her in concern. "Lena, I wished to ask if you were planning on joining our Samhain seance. We do need another member and you had said you were curious the other day..."
I'm sorry, dear. Can we put a bookmark in that thought? I promise I want nothing more than to hear all of your stories, but I did promise Morticia and Wednesday I would participate in the seance.
"Of course, love. We have plenty of time, as there is no rush. Plus, I find myself equally as curious."
Thank you- we will talk, I will make sure of it.
Riddle chuckled and she felt warmth as the locket pulsed. "Take the worry from your mind. I'm not upset- if anything, I will have more time to prepare myself to tell you the story properly."
Shifting from her animagus form, she slid off the bed. "I'm still interested, I just needed some space." When Morticia looked between her eyes, she smiled softly. "I'm not much for celebrating this holiday, so the festivities sort of threw me off, but I'm alright."
"If you are sure. Seances are sometimes very emotionally draining." Hand lingering on her shoulder for just a moment, the woman swept from the room silently.
Lena followed her to where a large round table was set out in the middle of the living room, the mirrors in the room covered and the house lit by candles.
Morticia sat, taking her husband's hand next to her. "Sit and complete the circle, our thirteenth, and our tie for the circle."
Sitting down carefully and looking at Wednesday, who gave her a small grin, she took the hand of the man to her side- Gary, she thought his name was?- along with Morticia's cooler hand, feeling something almost electric in the contact, shivering slightly as she closed her eyes like everyone else was doing.
Is that... supposed to happen?
"I don't know. I have never actually participated in a seance before, though I admit I am very intrigued by the possibilities of what could happen- especially with a child involved."
The fact Pubert was holding hands with Gomez and one of the Owens' girls was a bit strange, but apparently, they needed thirteen people and the three grandmothers had sat out of being directly involved under the claim that 'the young ones should have their fun.'
Lena tried to focus on the words that the dark-haired woman on the other side of Garry was saying, but something kept diverting her like something was tugging at her attention.
"-we invoke the name of Lady Magic to help us reach across the veil and feel the presence of those that we've lost, to let them rest their hands on our shoulders or press a kiss to our foreheads so that we may be strong in the coming times, with friends and family around us, as we-"
Her eyes opened, looking up to see a figure standing by a nearby window, looking directly at her and speaking without thinking as if the words were not her own. "Holly Owens. Your presence is recognized- step in the circle"
Stepping forward, the woman's shape flickering like smoke from a candle as she stepped through where Wednesday and Pugsley were holding hands, dark eyes looked at her. A voice like the whispering wind, the woman bowed. "My thanks, Cloaked One." The spirit then turned towards the two women that were probably her daughters, a soft smile on her lips. "How much you two have grown... my daughters, breaking the family curse and finding so much love..."
The woman with dark hair gave a soft gasping sound, her sister at her side murmuring 'mom' softly, they both leaned closer to each other as they spoke to the woman.
Lena's attention had started to shift, many more faces and figures stepping from the shadows to surround the circle, all shifting restlessly as they eyed her as if waiting for permission.
"Cloaked One." The woman once more caught her attention, dipping her head. "My thanks."
Nodding, unsure why the woman was thanking her, she nodded to a boy in the crowd. "Joel Glicker." When the boy with thick glasses that was looking around almost nervously paused and then pointed at himself, she huffed. "Enter the circle, Joel."
"Lena, that isn't funn-" Wednesday's breath stuttered when the boy did so a bit hesitantly, apparently able to see him now, her eyes filling with tears as the boy smiled sort of awkwardly. "J-Joel?"
"Hey, Wednesday."
The girl made a soft helpless choking sound. "No, you can't- This- You're not..."
Joel smiled softly, a sweet and soft look in his eyes as he leaned forward to cup Wednesday's face in his hands of smoke. "The Hallow Mistress invited me. I don't need to be magic, I just... I just need to want to see you." When the girl shook with a grief-filled sob, the boy smiled a bit helplessly. "It's okay, Wednesday. It's okay, I'm right next to you- like I said I would be forever. I'll never leave your side, so you don't have to look so sad all the time, okay?"
"I just- I want- Why couldn't you stay?"
With a soft laugh, the boy leaned in to press a kiss to Wednesday's forehead. "Some things aren't meant to last. They're meant to be beautiful and to change people for the better, but they're not permanent." His smile was small. "I'm at peace now, Wednesday."
Lena drifted somewhere in between the spoken word and the tick of the clock above the fireplace, speaking when needed to invite or pardon spirits from the circle, but mostly just feeling... untethered.
"Jackson Farland, enter the circle." Her eyes were unfocused, staring off out the window at the cemetery, but when something touched her cheek, she blinked and finally realized the words that had come from her own mouth.
Before her, standing tall and proud, Jack looked more at peace in his skin than she remembered, though that could have been because he was holding a plumed Corinthian helmet under his arm, adorned in gleaming a golden chest plate and leathers. His eyes were a burning orange like fire was raging in him.
"Jack?" Her voice was small. "Ares?"
The man smiled crookedly, voice somewhere between Jack's gruffness and Ares' echoing rasp. "We're here, Lena. We would never leave our daughter, our last priestess... the kindest form that Death will ever take." A hand that felt so strong- so solid- moved to settle on her shoulder before cupping the back on her neck in a way that felt like it was grounding her to the present. "Do not fear this, Lena. Never fear what you can do. You can dislike it and you can go out of your way to avoid it, but you should never fear who you are- no one has the right to make you feel that way, not even yourself."
Lena swallowed thickly, voice a whisper. "I can see... I can hear them, Jack, in the corner of my eyes. What-... what am I?"
"You are the Cloaked One. The Mistress of the Hallows. The living Veil." Leaning in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, the man's voice was a whisper against her skin. "If Hades and Anubis are Death Gods, then you are Thanatos."
Ripping her hands from the ones holding her, the spirits disappearing and Ares' soft laugh echoing in her ears, she stood and stumbled back, her chair falling over.
"Lena?"
Shaking her head and swallowing, she ran from the room, darting up the stairs.
"Lena? Lena, darling, what happened?"
Stopping as her knees shook, she leaned up against the wall, trying to remember how to breathe.
Jack! He- he was there and- and Ares was with him- or was him and-
"Whoa, slow down, sweetheart. Take a deep breath." Riddle's voice was soothing and she instinctively followed his lead as he started to count her breathing in and out, his voice patient as he waited for her to calm down. "I'm not sure if it was the seance or something else, but parts of your vision and hearing kept cutting in and out or being blurry, not to mention you couldn't seem to hear me. So before anything- are you alright?"
Physically, I'm fine.
"Okay... so you said Jack showed up- I saw that part, with the gold armor and helmet, which I am assuming is Ares... but after that was sort of fuzzy. What happened?"
Lena took a deep breath, licking her lips before shaking her head.
He... he just said something that-... I'm just shaken up, darling. It's- it's not important.
"Are you sure? You know you can speak to me about anything, right?"
I know, I'm just- I'm not ready to confront this yet.
The locket warmed against her skin, Riddle's voice concerned. "It's alright. Everything is alright, Lena. Just take a deep breath. You're in control of your skin, but everything else is not able to be controlled without force, so if you did not force something to happen, then you are not at fault."
Her breathing shook just slightly as she made her way back to her room, curling back up in her bed.
I want to write... letters. To you. To Voldemort. In the case that... that when I die, maybe he can find some sort of clarity. Maybe- maybe it will help with this feeling of fear when I think of him.
"I think that any part of me would be honored to hold any part of you, even if just a letter."
Dearest Tom,
There are many ways that I have thought to address this letter to you, but I figured that I would settle on the simplest, as to me you will forever be Tom Riddle no matter what face or name I call you by.
My companion.
My advisor and friend.
My Tom.
I do not think anymore that even death could change that. Once upon a time, I found that I had something akin to hate for you- for the idea that you could take so much from me and yet not ever have to feel any remorse for what you did. But I think that you will find that remorse, even if it takes time and you burn the world to ashes by the time you realize it.
You will look up at the moon one day and you will regret being able to love.
Because it hurts.
Because somewhere inside you, there is a hollow space that your body instinctively made for me to fit into, just as there is in mine. In fact, I have multiple spaces for you. One of the most prominent at the moment sits right under my throat and like a knot, it tightens until I cannot breathe when I think of how I wish I could have pulled you in, kept you all to myself before we fell apart with fate's words. Another, in parallel, sits right below my breastbone like a well that fills with rich warmth when I hear your laugh or your eyes sparkle or you give me that mischievous grin of yours without knowing that at that moment you hold my heart in its entirety.
The others, well, I would say that you have to find them yourself, but perhaps that is too hopeful to put in ink. Fate is not often known for being kind.
As I do not actually know whether or not you will read any of my letters, even if I have made them effectively as destruction-proof as I could, I admit that I will most likely go on tangents about what is happening around me. (Apologies in advance.)
...Though perhaps my ramblings will be as cathartic for you to read in some future time as they are for me to write out.
The Addams, a family of American immigrants with old magic ties that either ordain from Romania or Russia (I can't tell and no one will clue me in) that I am currently staying with, just held a seance. And... it was interesting, to say the least. I loathe the idea of writing exactly what happened down on paper as I'm currently pretending as if I don't remember, but needless to say, it kickstarted my 'initiation' into Wednesday and Pugsley's friend group.
(That makes it sound like a cult. It's not a cult, it's a group of like-minded teenagers... not that that distinction makes it much better.)
So far I've met only Kylie and Antonia, who are twins that exemplify much more of the 'light' scale of magic compared to Wednesday and Pugsley's dark magic, but the others that I've heard be mentioned are a boy named Vince who apparently has no self-preservation when it comes to pretty girls, a girl named Imani who hails from the Voodoo Queens of New Orleans, a girl named Cindy who Antonia described as 'the person equivalent of cotton candy', and a boy named Lowan who has an affinity for elemental magic.
I do not doubt that they're going to be quite different than I am expecting, but that is part of the reason I also want to meet them- as I know anyone that runs with the Addams will have a story to tell.
And I like stories.
Perhaps that's why I'm writing to you, darling. Because I want our story to live on and without my part of standing up to say that I walked willingly into your arms- whether that be for a tender embrace or my death- I fear that the history books will look back on me as a martyr.
I am no such thing.
I will walk to you with my head held high- no pity, no sacrifice, just the selfish desire of one half of a soul not to live without the other.
Maybe someday you will understand. And if you do... I am so sorry.
Your Lena.
The letter was tucked into the bottom of her backpack, never sent.
Wednesday sat down on the arm of the chair where she was currently sketching Morticia and Gomez, as they were going to pay her for a portrait and she wanted a drawing before she started on the painting to make sure she did her best work, the girl flicking her fingers out to offer her an envelope. "This came in the post. It's addressed to Helena Prince."
Pencil dropping from her fingers as she grabbed the envelope, she opened it and hastily undid the pages, looking at the familiar handwriting in relief.
Lena,
I worry about you. Not for your life, necessarily, as my 'Lord' has returned and he actually seems saner than I worried (though I do question his obsession with you), but for how long you have been away.
Albus said he would address this letter to you in a way that 'Tom' will not recognize and get it to you safely but he will not speak of where you are, even to me. Though I admit that might be best as I do not know if my mental barriers would hold back my 'Lord' if he found I was trying to keep information on your whereabouts from him. I say that not to worry you, just... well, I don't know. He keeps a weird relationship with you and until I see you around him I am withholding judgment if I hate him or not, as I see glimpses of the man that I knew as my mentor often when he speaks.
And on that, though I think that my 'Lord' is not wholly insane anymore, I still think that you should stay away from Britain until your birthday- To be safe, as I am not sure if my 'Lord' is playing at some longer con yet.
I know that you will want to hear all your friends are well, so I have included pictures from the camera we got during our time in France. As you will see, they are all well and in one piece- though Miss. Weasley got a concussion from playing Quiddich and Mr. Nott got a black eye from Draco when joking about your brother's sex life. I admit to tuning the whole story out and just glaring at them in disapproval, though Draco had the audacity to tell me you had scarier glares.
I would like to formally complain about that. As you are my daughter, I feel as if I should have the scarier glare, so that I may scare away whatever suitors you bring home.
...at least it seems to have some effect on my 'Lord' still.
Wishing you only the best,
Severus
P.S. Ginevra found out I was writing this and demanded I include a bunch of other letters as well.
Lena set the first page aside, reading over a letter from Blaise, the handwriting as distinctive to her as her own.
Lena,
I know that it's too soon to come back now and that you're doing your own thing traveling, but I wanted to let you know that my mother is going to spend a while in Italy this summer and would be more than willing to have a visitor as the family home there really is horribly big when she's alone...
Either way, the whole house misses you and Cedric was a bit put out when I had told him and Adrian you hadn't returned yet, though I know that you'll come back for our seventh year (you have to) and he'll be able to give you his regards then and tell you about his engagement (See? Now you have to come back).
Anyway, we got a new defense teacher named Mr. Gaunt- and though he's a bit intense, he's brilliant enough to make up for his strange behavior (sometimes). Ginny likes him (they end up bickering at each other in whispers where no one can hear them) and most of the Slytherins agree that he's not horrible but I think he's full of horseshit ... suspicious.
On a different topic, the younger students think you're some goddess or some mythological being. I blame Theo and his slightly embellished retellings of your fight against the other Heir of Slytherin, setting that acromantula on fire, or how you 'seduced' a Zouwu...
Also, I should mention- there is a lot of change in the Ministry like repealing a bunch of old-fashioned laws about creatures and areas of magical study... Perhaps the Dark Lord finally found where he left his brain.
I hope you're doing well.
Zucchini.
Humming she set that letter aside on top of Severus', looking at the next that was from Ginny.
Hey Mom.
Blaise said that I shouldn't call you that because I was being 'impressionable to the firsties' but if Theo can tell them stories of you cutting the head off a manticore and seducing a Zouwu, then I can call you 'mom'. It's not like you're here to tell me off anyway :P
Anyway- Thomas Gaunt, our Defence Professor is amazing and I really think you'll like him. Like a lot.
We've talked once or twice and he's super great. He's the Co-Head of House right now along with Snape and hung out with the rest of the house after the Samhain feast. It was a bit awkward because he and Blaise are like water and oil, but the rest of the Court's presence seemed to smooth things out- after butterbeer was put out everything kind of got a little less awkward at least. Anyway, the point is that he came to sit beside me and asked about my being the new seeker, plus even if he didn't seem all that interested, he still listened, which was nice of him.
Also- he asked about you!
He saw the chocolate and asked if this was one of the traditions that you'd passed on, as he'd heard of you from other people he knows. Blaise got really growly and stiff, but Daphne stepped in and started to tell him that fact about chocolate being made from the same chemical as your brain in love- But he finished her sentence!
And then- get this- he turned to Blaise with a grin and said 'a dear friend told me that' and Blaise just FLIPPED! Like got all 'Slytherin King' and ordered him out of the common room!
I thought there was going to be a fight. (I totally would have been a fly on that wall, I mean both are super hot and- okay I can feel your disapproval already just writing this but come on, Lena, a girl's gotta get her amusement somewhere!)
Anyway, we girls all miss our house mom.
Love,
Redhead ;)
Riddle seemed particularly amused at Ginny's letter, his voice fond when she touched the locket gently. "I forgot how much I approve of your redheaded friend. She is quite amusing."
I can't believe she's practically encouraging Blaise to get into a fight with a teacher- and speaking of which, why was Zucchini so upset anyway?
"Perhaps he feels threatened. Having a stronger, better-looking, more successful figure around that knows more than him must have rubbed his feathers the wrong way... though it will have to be something he gets used to."
Lena raised an eyebrow at that.
I thought you liked Blaise.
Riddle hummed. "Only when he makes you laugh. The rest of the time I am... indifferent."
You don't sound too indifferent. Plus, I don't remember Gaunt being all that attractive... though I guess Ginny has a different taste in guys than I do.
"Oh?" Riddle's voice turned sugar-sweet as if trying to sound innocent even if they both knew he wasn't anywhere close. "...and what 'taste' would that be?"
Her lips tilted up as she set aside the letter.
Bodiless, but with a very lovely voice that I could listen to for the rest of my life and arms that feel like beams of sunshine against my skin that I would let me hold me forever.
"You make me blush, my dear."
You're physically unable to blush, darling... but you're welcome.
Her smile was small and fondly amused as she touched the locket around her neck, folding the letters back up carefully before looking back up at Wednesday. "Thank you for getting these to me- it means a lot."
With a small nod, the girl put a hand on her shoulder lightly for a moment before moving past her, voice soft. "Always for family."
Lena held the letters close for a long moment.
Right.
Anything for family.
After the first letter, she found herself more willing to write a second, the words easier.
Dearest Tom,
Currently, I am on a bus from a terminal in New York that will take us to Ilvermorny, which Wednesday has told me I am not legally allowed to reveal the location of. As it is, I am having to levitate both pen and parchment, dictating this by careful thought because of the jerky high-speed movements of this death trap. Though it's actually quite enjoyable and Wednesdays devolved into cackling madly just a moment ago, which is making me smile, as the older lady on the bus near us is looking at her as if she's mad.
It's freeing to throw my head back and laugh with her- she does that, makes me feel like I'm soaring so high above all my worries and fears I might never come down, but there's something about her that I know could be dangerous in large portions. We weren't made to fit like you and I were- her sharp edges dig into mine and though sometimes that feels nice like putting ice on a burn, eventually the ice will start to hurt because it's naturally so cold.
...she's looking over my shoulder and telling me that you make me write like a lovesick sexually-repressed teenager from the 1800s.
Which is personally so offensive that I'm going to end this letter here. (Along with the fact that I apparently have to get off the bus and walk a mile or something ridiculous like that.)
As always,
Your Lena.
~~~
A/N: A mix of fluff and angst *kisses fingers* A masterpiece